


vexed

by odylics



Category: Fire Emblem: Fuukasetsugetsu | Fire Emblem: Three Houses
Genre: Drabble, First Kiss, M/M, Mildly Dubious Consent
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-02-04
Updated: 2020-02-04
Packaged: 2021-02-27 20:33:46
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,214
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22561807
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/odylics/pseuds/odylics
Summary: Hubert takes something belonging to Ferdie. Ferdinand wants it back.
Relationships: Ferdinand von Aegir/Hubert von Vestra
Comments: 4
Kudos: 147





	vexed

**Author's Note:**

> I've been on this website since 2015 and this is the first time I've written anything I cared to share! I love these repressed idiots, please enjoy!

It had been nearly two moons since Hubert had snapped in the middle of a rather routine argument over the Empire's next meeting with the Alliance's attache, crossing the span of Ferdinand's office to slam his fist into the heavy oak of his neatly organized desk. Ferdinand had watched the corners of papers fluttering in reaction to the force, had risen to meet Hubert's anger, rounding the desk to escort him to the door. The Empress's vassal had been incensed by his calmness, stepping into his path until they were nearly chest to chest, their faces kiss-close and their heated breaths battling for space between their furious mouths. He had seen something in Ferdinand's eyes, something open and wanting that had startled him into stunned silence, eyes widening fractionally before sharpening into the most hateful glare the younger man had ever had the displeasure to be on the receiving end of.

"You vex me, von Aegir,". And he'd said it as if the words were poison held beneath the tongue, poison which he intended to pour down Ferdinand's throat in a killing blow, since in the next moment, their lips met, Hubert's broad hand pressing tightly to the small of his back, as unyielding and immobilizing as a night terror. He had stopped the moment the Prime Minister had given in, sighing a soft moan against Hubert's mouth, back bowing in acquiescence to the insistent press of him. He had stopped so abruptly that Ferdinand's seeking hands merely caught air, rocking unsteadily back onto his heels for the sudden lack of support. Hubert had stared at him with such unspoken longing, it would have set him aflame with the intensity of the thing, but then he was gone, the door slammed behind him as his heels clicked quickly down the marble hall. All he had left behind was Ferdinand, fingertips pressed to his mouth as if to keep the feeling of the kiss there, too shocked, too confused to follow and demand answers, or penance, or more. 

His first kiss, stolen by the man that hated him more than most anything else in the world. It was the _indecent_ thing to have done: sordid, ignoble, careless, and everything that Ferdinand von Aegir had ever dreamed kissing Hubert von Vestra could be.

Still. Nearly two moons, and not a mention of the incident, not an explanation, and certainly not the apology that the scene had warranted. Quite the opposite, really: If Hubert wasn't ignoring him completely, he was sneering down his nose at him, shutting down even his most carefully crafted attempts at conversation with simple, devastating dismissals. The nights had been the cruelest: Replaying the kiss from every possible angle, his unconscious mind desperate to explain the why, though none of them ever seemed to fit in the cold light of day. In truth, he only slept to dream, to take it farther than Hubert had allowed, to let his hands seek and find, gaining purchase in the dark wave of Hubert's hair, around the strong set of wiry shoulders.

It is from one of these torturous dreams that he has woken, dewy with sweat and panting quietly into the soft down of his pillows, his body held as taut as a newly-strung bow. The floor echoes his barefooted pacing when he rises, splashing cold water on his face from the basin, brushing his teeth, rinsing with wine-- anything to rid his tongue of the taste of bitter coffee, of the sickly-sweetness of almonds, dark traces of the poison Hubert had been building resistance to for years. The gilded mirror shows him a man undone: a silk dressing gown tied hastily around his waist, eyes just a touch too bright, his braid loosened messily over his shoulder, throat flushed a deep, wanton peach. No matter, there will be none but the guards and his intended target awake at this hour, and he cannot lose another moment's sleep to this distraction, 

The door to Hubert's office is closed, but the faint glow of candlelight spilling into the hall from the threshold confirms what Ferdinand is already sure of, and emboldened by the late hour and his righteous anger, he enters without a knock, shutting and latching the door behind him. He does not yet dare to turn, fingers still tight around the key that he's twisted in the lock, panic beginning to ebb in at the very edges of his need.

"Prime Minister, what is it? Is something the matter with our Lady? Have you alerted the guard--"

"You are a thief and a scoundrel, von Vestra."

"...I beg your pardon?"

Ferdinand does turn then, slumped against the door, palms pressed flat as if he had entered into a snake's cage. Hubert's pupils seem to flare in the dim light, perhaps at the accusation, or perhaps at the sight of the Prime Minister's relative state of undress, though if they react out of anger or desire, he cannot tell the difference. Still, Ferdinand swallows fear and pride, meeting Hubert's eyes even as his chest rises and falls a bit quicker than he would like to admit to. He had come this far. 

"Whatever your intention was, be it to sate your morbid curiosity or just to torture me with my own, I have thought of nothing else but your kiss," Ferdinand's voice is barely above a whisper, but he shakes his head to stop the response he sees forming on Hubert's lips, those damned lips, unwilling to go unheard for even a moment more. "You have taken from me a first, Hubert, without my express permission or even a single inclination that I would want you to do such a thing to me." And, for the first time in many, many years of rivalry, Ferdinand watches as the unfamiliar wash of shame tints Hubert's pale cheeks, his head bowing slightly under the weight of it. 

"A first? You mean that I--?". The Empress's vassal lifts his gaze, confusion and horror tainting the firmly suppressed emotion just behind his eyes. "I... Ferdinand, I give you my sincerest apology. It was a moment of weakness, and as you said, morbid curiosity. I was merely not strong enough to keep my baser nature locked in secret. I should never have assumed that you could-- That you would _want_ \--".

"Hubert?". Green eyes track the smaller man as he approaches, likely calculating his distance, his speed, the probability of attack. It breaks something small and fragile in Ferdinand's heart to witness it, to see that cyanide and arsenic were not the only poisons Hubert had grown accustomed to ingesting, but that he had absorbed the inherent toxicant of rejection, perhaps so many times that he barely feels its sting.

"Of course, if you choose to report this indiscretion to her Majesty, I would understand, and will accept whatever punishment--". He stiffens but does not shift away as Ferdinand rounds the desk, bare hands pressing firmly to the hummingbird heartbeat in his breast.

"Hubert, for once, _do_ be quiet." 

The difference in their heights is just enough to require Ferdinand to press up on his toes, a palm on Hubert's chest to steady himself, mouth a breath away from Hubert's lips, which part in heady need.

"Kiss me slowly, this time."


End file.
